


XIII Things That Never Happened to Sora

by Moon Faery (tsukinofaerii)



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-19
Updated: 2010-03-19
Packaged: 2017-10-08 03:24:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 6,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsukinofaerii/pseuds/Moon%20Faery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thirteen drabbles following Roxas through the Organization, from the time he wakes to his escape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Blue eyes open just in time to see a blade coming straight at his face.

As an introduction to existence, it's pretty much spot-on.

He rolls, toppling off the dais he'd been stretched out on like some sort of science experiment. It's not quick enough. The blade slices through his bicep, spilling light like blood down his arm. Cold marble bruises his knees as he scrambles away, clutching at the wound. "Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

The man holding the blade—_sword_— steps around the table and sneers at him, deepening the lines in his face that make it clear the expression is more or less permanent. The x-shaped scar between his eyes pinches as he lifts his sword for another strike. "Killing you. Hold still."

"What? No!" Instinctively, he raises an arm to block any blow that might fall. Something glints briefly, then flares to life in his palm, turning into a giant key. He's so grateful for a weapon, any weapon, that he doesn't waste time wondering where it came from before bracing it with both hands. The sword comes down on the shaft of the key with a clang. The impact makes his shoulders ache.

A bright, feminine voice laughs somewhere above. "Look, it's awake. Can I have it, now?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Larxene," a deep, slow voice drawls in reply. "It's dangerous. It needs to be exterminated."

Even though his attacker is still only a few steps away, he looks up. Eleven people in black with deep hoods perch above him on thrones, like angels in judgment. They're points of hyper-reality in a white-on-white room, nailing everything to the front of his brain with rusty spikes.

"I think you're all being idiots. Look at him." With all of their hoods pulled up, it's almost impossible to tell which was talking, but one of them flicks his fingers at the floor below. "He's clueless. And kind of cute. Like a puppy."

The man holding the sword swings it down near his leg, aim so far off from a hit that it has to be deliberate. "He's the keyblade's master," he growls. "See how it comes to him?"

None of it makes any sense at all. "What the hell are you people _talking_ about?" The boy pauses, then glares upwards. "And I am not a puppy!"

"Hold, Saïx. Number Eight may be correct, for once." One of the figures pushes back his hood and leans forward. His hair is the shade of bone china, or the rest of the room. It's a contrast to his tanned skin, which is made even worse by his eyes. They belong to a lion, all predator gold and merciless. "What's your name?"

"Roxas." The answer is automatic, from some source so deep he can't even identify it. But it sounds right, and so he repeats it as something to cling to. "I'm Roxas."

"Welcome, Roxas. I am Xemnas, your Superior." His smile is like his eyes. A shiver not caused by the cold marble traces down Roxas' spine. "Welcome to the Organization."


	2. Chapter 2

Ordinary Nobodies use dark portals like lesser mortals walk. For the most part, they're pleased enough to ignore Roxas as he stumbles through his first few days in the World That Never Was. They give no instruction, and he asks for none. Number Eight isn't so complacent, but Axel makes a point of being an exception to every rule, and in any case can hardly be described as ordinary. But they mostly leave him alone, to discover the strange powers he can call his own.

Or, more accurately, the strange powers he _can't_ call his own, the dark portals being one. On his third day of existence, at Axel's urging, he tries. Even the bare attempt to use the ability, one supposedly as effortless as breathing, nets him a sputter of darkness and a whole-body migraine that lasts for _days_.

"Probably something to do with the Key of Destiny and all that crap," Axel advises, lounging on Roxas' bed as though it were his own. Roxas is laid out on the floor, with an icepack and a growing need to kill. "Bastion of light, blah blah blah. It's a trade-off. Headache better?"

"It would be if you would just shut up," Roxas grinds out, shifting his head against the wonderfully solid floor. His eyes are closed, but even behind them he can see too much light coming from the walls. "The 'Key of Destiny' deal is bullshit. Who the hell comes up with these names anyways? Or abilities? I'd rather portal."

"Mock not the Superior," Axel advises solemnly, "lest ye be knocked on your ass. Again." The bed creaks as he moves, and Roxas can feel the noise in his jawbone. "I'll give you a lift anywhere you want, but the Keyblade's one of the cool weapons. Not like a sissy book or anything."

Roxas cracks an eye to stare at the pain-blurred red and black thing that is Axel. "I'll hold you to that."

He thinks Axel grins. "You'd better."


	3. Chapter 3

The first time he cracks gravity, like most first times for Roxas, is an accident. Larxene had taken a human as a toy earlier that week. It finally breaks, so loudly that no one misses the death cry, and that's when she starts looking for a new one. When she's like this, even the Superior isn't safe, and so they've all left. Even Axel had gone on a mission, leaving Roxas alone with no real escape.

He takes refuge in what he'll always think of as the throne room, knowing it will at least give him a clear view as she comes at him. "Come out, come out, little Roxas, our sweet little Keybearer," he can hear her purring down the hall. "I know you're here." Larxene appears at the door, whipcord soft and still smeared with the blood of her toy. "There you are," she exclaims, voice rising in delight. "Were you waiting for me, Little Thirteen?"

From his own seat, he stares down at her. Even her footprints are bloody, leaving streaks on the marble. "Go away, Larxene." All the apathy he can muster flattens his voice, makes it echo with an adulthood he can't feel. "I don't want to play with you."

"But I have _so_ many fun toys." Knives glint between her fingers, warning him just in time to dodge. But from a seat twenty feet in the air the only places to go are up and down, and one necessitates eventual return to the other. Roxas leaps from his seat onto a wall as the knives bounce off it. Only some vague belief that maybe he can control his fall enough to escape keeps him going, stretching for just _one_ more step.

Ten— twenty— it's thirty feet before a wall brings him crashing to the ground as he's nicked by another thrown blade. Pale light escapes the wound in wisps as he rolls to his feet and pelts down the hall.

He loses her in the maze of the castle, but later will tell the Superior that if he's left to deal with her alone again, she won't survive the experience.

The next time Larxene breaks a toy, Xemnas himself sees to Roxas' travel needs.


	4. Chapter 4

Normally he would never be caught in the laboratory when its resident is in, but Vexen says "Riku" and Roxas follows without even knowing what a Riku is.

It's a doll, he finds out. A life-sized and breathing toy, without even a sheet to hide its nakedness. Vexen strokes its arm like a lover, fingers gliding over pale skin in an obscene dance of ownership. It doesn't even blink, and all Roxas can think is that he's seen the sea-green shade of its eyes somewhere before.

"This is three-point-one-three-c," Vexen explains, voice a perfect imitation of pride. His instruments are laid out on the little table beside him, sharp little things that make Roxas stay close to the exit. There's even a cleaver. "The others were flawed, but this one survived. I just need to animate him."

Roxas' imagination shies away from the idea of others, of the doll as a "him". It personifies a non-life too horrifically short to ever claim the title of Person, and he wonders if that is why they all do it. "So what do you need me for?"

The scientist's eyes light with the glory of creation. "I created him from a sample of another. They have the same memories, bodies, minds... An exact copy. _Exact._" His hand tightens on the doll's arm, nail slicing into flesh as easily as a scalpel. It doesn't wince. "His original is—unique, special, amazing. But this is lifeless, useless; it's missing something crucial—"

"His light." Lexaeus' voice is low and soft immediately behind Roxas. The youngest Nobody whirls in time to be caught by the wrist. He never expected anything of Lexaeus, the gentle giant, who is quiet in all things but clearly as deranged as the rest if he expects Roxas not to fight whatever they're planning. "His light motivates, animates, breathes for him. The Original would be as much a husk as three-point-one-three-c without it."

Lexaeus slams Roxas' hand against the slab and forces his fingers to splay. Roxas pulls, but it's fighting a mountain. He calls the Keyblade, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears. A machine whines on the verge of overload in the background.

Vexen picks up the cleaver from his tray of instruments. "And you," he says calmly, lining up his blow, "are Light."


	5. Chapter 5

Roxas' finger grows back, eventually, but the energy it takes to regenerate a whole body part leaves him useless for anything other than Shadows. The Superior is annoyed, but the achievement is declared a success, and there's nothing to do about anything. He spends his recovery in the library, avoiding the Replica as it totters through the first pretense of life. Its too-innocent stare confuses him, and he suspects it's mutual. But the library is the single place it's denied--there's far too much information for something created from an enemy to be allowed--and so Roxas practically lives there for three entire days.

He's in the back stacks when he's cornered, a gloved hand capturing his wrists while another covers his eyes. Bookshelves press against his back, as hard as the chest that's against his front. Roxas finds time between snarls and kicks to be grateful that his attacker isn't Larxene. His size works against him as whoever it is manages to pick him up and pin him by the hips so he can't even kick properly.

Hot breath washes over his ear, humid and disgusting. "I'm not hurting you." Roxas continues to twist anyways, knowing that present tense doesn't have anything to do with future. The voice is gravely and hoarse with emotion that has to be lies, nothing he recognizes even though he should know them all. "Tomorrow, Castle Oblivion. We're leaving and probably not all coming back."

"Who are you?" Roxas growls, trying to bite some part of his attacker.

"Maybe a Nobody, maybe a memory, maybe nothing at all." The hand around Roxas' wrists tightens to the point of pain. "You can't come, because they'll kill you if they can. I'm sorry." The grip tightens even more, until Roxas' bones crack with a fire that makes him scream. It's muffled by a mouth over his own, a tongue thrusting into him like rape. Roxas chokes on the slimy, bitter taste of morning breath and the faintly chemical tang of cherry lollipops. His jaws snap shut, trying for his attacker's tongue, but missing by a breath.

There's barely any time between the oily-grit feel of the portal being created behind him and Roxas being shoved through onto his own bed in his own room. He lands on his shattered wrists and screams again. The pain is so strong that he wonders if Vexen would be interested in taking both arms next time.

The next day the Replica is gone, along with almost half of the Organization. No one tells Roxas where they went. Roxas doesn't ask.


	6. Chapter 6

Bones are easier to heal than missing fingers, but it still takes a few days and by the time he can swing his Keyblades the others have all dropped out of contact. None of the remaining Nobodies are even sure if they're still in existence, and none of them want to risk their own destruction by looking for them.

The castle is emptier than it's ever been, and Roxas can't even go out to collect hearts without someone else for transport. He's given up on finding anything in the library that doesn't read like one of Xemnas' monologues, and after that there was nothing. Nothing except his Keyblade.

He'd ignored it for the most part. It's a sign of how useless he is, except for _it_. So he'd never really investigated, just keeping the Oblivion and Three Wishes Keychains on for the most part. But it's his weapon, and he can't pretend it belongs to someone else forever.

So after he'd worn out even the barren Gardens of the Void, he stretches out on the floor of his rooms with the keychains spread out around him. Most of them are just keychains, lifeless things of metal and magic that he dismisses almost immediately. What remains are different, so thick with memories that he can taste them. The dark spread of a single wing brings the feel of gritty marble under his feet and the roar of an invisible crowd.

_One-Winged Angel._

The pumpkin he knows, more from logic than the ghost of a memory. Where else could that have come but Halloween Town? With its ghouls and full moon that never really scared Roxas like he always thought they should. He knows the sight of the full moon over the graveyard from his own experiences, but the keychain carries a weight with it that echoes that.

_Pumpkinhead._

Another is simple, just a black crown on a chain, but it's one of his favorites to battle with. It almost makes his stomach crawl with the echoes of its history, with betrayal and despair and the weight of a battle that couldn't be won. The first time he'd used it he'd thrown up, overcome by visions of castles and heartless.

_Oblivion._

But there's one he doesn't know. Nothing connects it to him at all, even by the thin thread of logic. It's a simple thing, nothing more than a collection of shells tied together into a star.

_Oathkeeper._

It's dead to him. There's no feeling of places seen and forgotten, or of people met. It's just a collection of shells in his hand. He attaches it to the Keyblade and calls the weapon to his hand to inspect.

The keyblade it summons is mostly white, just like everything else in the World. Brilliant splashes of color decorate the blade teeth, tropical and warm as if to make up for the rest of it. The keychain dangles underneath it, still dull. Somehow he knows that if he tries to use this blade, it'll backfire. Something will go wrong, and then he'll be helpless and knee-deep in Heartless.

Carefully, Roxas wraps his fist around the keychain and crushes the delicate shells together. They spark and warm in his hand as the whole Keyblade shudders and dulls to a smooth silver finish.

He doesn't even have to open his fist to know that the shells have mended themselves, stronger than before, but he does anyway. There's a solidity there now, an acknowledgement and a sort of presence that had been missing. It knows him now. He hadn't been the one to take the oath, it says. He's not held to it, can't be held to it. The Oathkeeper is gone.

_Oathbreaker._


	7. Chapter 7

When things get too dull even for a Nobody, Roxas eventually seeks the only source of something close to entertaining for a three world radius and learns about the magic of gambling. It's a way to pass the time, and sometimes he even learns a few card tricks to take up even more of it. He's not good at them at first, but eventually his fingers learn the way of sliding and folding, until he can manage well enough to impress the Somebodies on his occasional trip out. And after he learns the secret, the one that Luxord never figured out, he cons the Gambler of Fate into a trip to Port Royale.

Luxord abandons him as soon as they get there. He's not one for competitive poker—he sucks at it. He bluffs to win, always, and so the Somebodies walk away, knowing a card artist when they see one.

Part of the trick to poker, Roxas decided in his first lesson, is to lose now and then until the pot's gotten big enough and then rake it in with one big win. When you have to put more effort into _not_ bluffing than anything else, to writing disappointment or pleasure on your face, there's no fooling anyone but yourself.

But as Roxas looks through his cards, thick things that lack the deadly grace of Luxord's, he knows there's one purely cerebral emotion that comes naturally to even Nobodies: confusion. And he plays a fool, staring at his cards as if he doesn't know which pair is best, or what the wild card is. The pirates and whores laugh and buy him a round now and then, cheering the victories he allows himself to keep in the game. They _like_ him—everyone likes a persistent loser at poker. It's a heady thing, actually being liked, even if it's for the munny he's poured into the pot.

In the grubby, dark taverns of Port Royale, it's easy to lose. And at the end of the night it comes down to him and only one other, with a bigger pile of gold on the table than most pirates see in their lives. No one really knows how Roxas made it so far. He always managed to just win enough in just the right places.

He lays his cards down, and the entire tavern holds its breath. Then he looks up with a smug smile.

It's the first real emotion he ever felt.


	8. Chapter 8

When Axel comes back from wherever he and the rest had gone, he's alone. He must have been expected, but no one had told Roxas about it. He steps through a portal in the throne room, where the Superior had gathered them all, and throws back his hood.

"They're gone."

Xemnas doesn't act surprised, which should be Roxas' first clue that something's up. "Marluxia? Larxene?"

A thin red eyebrow rises just slightly. It's the least animated Roxas has ever seen Eight. "I told you. They're gone. All of them."

"Even the witch?" Saïx barked. "The Replica?"

Axel's eyes settled on him, cold as frosted glass and just as lifeless. "Everyone." His eyes meet Roxas' for a breath of time, and then slide past him. "I'm going to crash. It's been a long month."

The rest of the Organization is silent as he turns and vanishes through the doorway, boots clicking on the perfectly white marble. Silence rules supreme, if uncomfortably so. In a way, they're all looking at Roxas by looking everywhere else. Unsaid things burn through the room with glances and subtle expressions. Saïx and Xemnas nod, then vanish into their portals. The others follow close after, leaving Roxas alone in the throne room.

He's always known that he doesn't know everything about the Organization, but this is the first time he's realized that he might be the only one who doesn't. Keeping secrets is understood, and necessary. Keeping secrets from _him_...

He levitates down from his chair and follows Axel's path through the door and down to the main doors. He needs to think about this, and he can't do it in the Castle. There's too much temptation to track them down, even though he knows they're probably somewhere he can't follow.

The second emotion Roxas feels is anger. It's confusing at first, but he grows used to it.


	9. Chapter 9

Roxas perches on a windowsill as the clouds roil overhead. Curls of shavings fall to the darkness below as his knife sculpts away at a small block of wood. Even Nobodies can have too much spare time, and carving gives him something to do with his hands when there's nothing else to do. There's a strange, easy _something_ in watching things come to life under his hands as he works. It's fitting. Soothing.

Something from nothing.

It's been two weeks since Axel's return. The others are still mostly closeted with each other, though Xemnas sent Demyx out once. Even though Roxas was the best at collecting hearts, he wasn't given any assignments. Not even one to get him out of the way.

His blade catches on a small notch in the wood, turning it into a larger one. He snarls at the thing, almost throwing it out the window.

A dark portal swirls and coalesces in front of him. When it fades, Axel lounges firmly on empty air, legs folded. "Feeling left out?"

"Go away, Eight."

"Ow, not even worth a name." His red hair obeys gravity and falls forward as he rests his elbows on his knees, even though nothing else about him has the same respect for physics. His expression is almost invisible; he can't even be bothered to fake it. "Well, pack it up. We're going to the Pridelands."

Roxas returns his attention to the piece in his hand. "You can."

"It's an _order_ from the _Superior_, Roxas." Something close to annoyance rises in Axel's eyes. Close, but not quite.

Roxas keeps chipping away at the wood, searching for the shape he saw in it when he picked it up. "I don't see why I should care about that. No one tells me anything, so why should I take orders?"

"No one tells you— You're pissed about _that_?"

"Yeah. I am."

Thunder rolled overhead as that statement sinks in. Axel's eyes grow large and round with disbelief, which is practically an emotion all its own. When he finally replies, it's hushed, strangled with something Roxas can't name. "Really? I mean, you really...?"

"Yeah."

"That's..." Axel lowers himself until they're on eye-level, and Roxas either has to turn his head entirely or look at him. "Wow. Just wow."

When Roxas looks at him, he's surprised by the unabashed longing written over Axel's face. It's a visceral thing, a need rather than a feeling, but for the first time he wonders if maybe Axel can be more than nothing too. "It's not easy."

"Good things aren't." Eight hesitates, visibly searching for words. "I'm sorry we're not telling you everything. If I could, I would. But I'm on thin ice since I came back. The Superior would kill me. You know how it is."

"I know." Roxas' fist curls around the little lump of wood he'd been working on. Axel is a friend, of sorts. As close of a friend as a Nobody can be. He doesn't want him to be hurt, but he still wants to know what they're not telling him.

Even if he refuses the order to go to the Pridelands, Axel will probably suffer for it too. Xemnas doesn't show mercy. He doesn't even know what it is, probably. Even Roxas knows that Xemnas was displeased over losing the witch, whoever she was.

Hurting his only friend won't get him answers. Roxas pockets his work and holds out a hand for Axel to take. "I'll go with you. But no funny business like in Wonderland."

Axel's grin is almost honest as his hand closes around Roxas' wrist. He tugs him out into the air, unfolding his legs as he does. "You know me. Always serious."


	10. Chapter 10

The meetings decrease. Older members start going out on missions again. Everything's returning to normal, or as normal as things can be in a world that isn't. Roxas has taken to spending his free time on Memory's Skyscraper, but he has less and less of it. Axel follows him almost everywhere, and the Superior seems to delight in sending them off to a new world almost as soon as they return from the last. He's seen castles and villages, strange places in that are all water and places with no water at all.

But nothing gives him answers.

None of the others seem to have his problems, his _feelings_, but they look at him like they know. Sometimes Xemnas will do something and then look at him, as if expecting a reaction. Roxas never gives him one, but the suspicion is obvious to him. Axel might have told them, but Roxas doesn't think he did. For a Nobody, Axel has a weird sense of honor. That is, he has one.

Emotions keep piling themselves onto him, coming thick and fast once the avalanche had been started. There's nothing to do but ride it and try not to be buried. Anger only needs a few days to become an old friend, but fear joins it after almost not surviving a mission. Only a day after that he actually laughs at one of Axel's jokes when he goes out on a solo mission. Halfway through Axel's week-long stint away, another emotion shapes itself in him. Loneliness. There's no escape from it, not when he can't use the dark portals. Asking one of the others is out of the question.

He can't deal with it and keep it a secret. He doesn't even know why he can feel anything at all, and it's not safe to ask. He has to get out.

When Axel finally comes back, Roxas waits for him in his room. His red hair is bedraggled, and there's still a bruise on his cheek. Axel doesn't even see him at first, just stripping off his clothes and dropping down onto the bed in exhaustion. When Roxas sits by his knees, he barely even cracks his eyes open to see who it is.

"I missed you."

Axel's eyes slip closed again, but a nearly invisible smile curves his thin lips. "Thanks."

Roxas hesitates, the still-new sensation of fear turning his stomach queasy. Axel needs to know—no one else will help him. "I need to leave."

"You won't." Axel's eyes open again, lazy and so certain that Roxas doesn't trust it at all. His smile just makes Roxas want to hit him. "You'll miss me."

Stubbornness is a fault, but not one Roxas is willing to give up. "No, I won't."

Quick as a striking Dusk, Axel's hand snaps out to wrap around Roxas' wrist. Roxas falls back, trying to pull himself free, but Axel has always been stronger. Pain flashes up his arm as the touch turns hot, burning. A scream lodges in his throat as he wrenches himself away again. This time Axel lets him go.

The skin around his wrist is scorched and blistered, melted in imperfect circles where Axel's fingers had rested. Roxas cradles it to his chest, snarling at the other Nobody.

"Why the _hell_—?"

Axel just stares down at him, head pillowed on his folded arms. "Because you'll miss me."


	11. Chapter 11

Roxas doesn't talk to Axel for the two days it takes the burn to become a scar. He's hurt and confused, neither one something he'd ever associated with emotions before. Axel watches him, but stays away, maybe because he knows Roxas can't go anywhere without help. When it heals, the burn forms a ragged scar, shiny white and obviously shaped like a handprint. The long sleeves of his coat cover it, for the most part, but when he's not in his coat he starts wearing a wrist band to hide it.

In the end, Roxas starts talking to Axel again because there's no one else. Loneliness is a new, bitter thing, and he'd do anything to keep it away. "Unforgivable" means less to someone who's never wanted forgiveness.

They're lounging in Axel's room when Roxas finally decides what to do. Axel's room is comfortable enough. The Flurry of Dancing Flames likes cushions for his bony frame, so even the chair Roxas is draped over backwards is well-padded.

It took him two weeks to truly decide, but they were weeks spent in deep thought. The Superior keeps sending him on more and more dangerous missions, giving him more knowing glances and little "tests". It won't be long before he's found out for certain, and Xemnas is just as much a scientist as Vexen had been. He can't afford to stay.

"I'm leaving. Tomorrow."

Axel's sprawled on his back on the bed, as he tends to be when there's an option of avoiding verticality. There's a sucker between his lips; Roxas doesn't know when he'd picked up the habit, but at least he never sees any wrappers. Axel raises a thin red eyebrow mockingly. "Again? Didn't we do this once?"

"I'm serious, Axel. They'll kill me if I stay."

"They'll kill you if you leave. You realize that, right?" With a quick chomp, the end of the lollipop is gone. A quick burst of flame gets rid of the stick. "You can't go anywhere without a dark portal. Saïx will hunt you down and give you to Xemnas and that'll be that."

Roxas scoops up a fallen pillow and throws it, but his aim is so far off Axel doesn't even flinch. "What am I supposed to do then? Wait for them to figure me out? Or to die for a few measly hearts? That Demon Wall almost ended us both last week!"

"We didn't."

"Next time, maybe we won't get lucky." He thinks about throwing another pillow, but he doesn't really want to hit Axel anyway. He's only repeating Roxas' own thoughts. "And I need answers. Why am I the only one who can— who's _like this_? I need to know."

On the bed, Axel shifts to stare at Roxas through narrowed green eyes. "You don't need it. You _want_ to know. It's not worth it."

"I think it is." Roxas sighs. It's a new thing, sighing. An emotional release that he'd never realized before, but once he had it had started happening on its own. Another give-away that Xemnas no doubt noted. "It's not like anyone would miss me."

When Axel doesn't say anything, Roxas returns the favor.


	12. Chapter 12

Leaving the Organization was simple. Staying gone, Roxas quickly discovers, requires much more effort. He spends a few days collecting his thoughts and dodging other Nobodies, all of whom are more eager to kill him than to capture him. It's exactly what he'd expected. The city provides plenty of places to hide, but hiding in a dead place won't give him anything he wants. He knows he should ask Axel for a portal somewhere, but he's not ready to admit that he needs help. Not yet, at least.

The newest Nobody that comes after him makes him think that he might end up asking Axel sooner than he'd expected.

"Who are you?" Roxas crosses his Keyblades to catch one not too dissimilar from his own. There's nothing from the other Nobody, just heavy breaths as he breaks away and launches directly into a new attack. The silence is eerie, unsettling. If Roxas had never understood the word "creepy" before, he does now. Even though this new person is far, far weaker than himself, his focus is so intense that the warm rain can't keep goosebumps from crawling down Roxas' back.

He catches his opponent's blade again, twisting it out of his grip. It skitters off into the rain-soaked shadows before vanishing into a whirl of magic. Roxas doesn't wait for the stranger to summon it again. He kicks him up against a wall and keeps him there with Oathbreaker against his jugular. The hood hides everything but his opponent's chin and a few locks of silvery hair. Not that it matters; more than anyone, Roxas knows that a Nobody's expression isn't to be trusted.

"Who are you?" he repeats, pressing the sharp tines of the blade closer. The thick leather of the classic Organization coat does nothing to protect against the blade, parting with the ease of paper. "Did Xemnas send you? Saïx?" A dark suspicion rose in his mind, along with the bile in his throat. "Axel?"

The other Nobody's breaths are loud in the alley, as ragged as if he truly needs them. His silence isn't as disturbing when it's so broken. On a sudden suspicion, Roxas flicks his keyblade and pushes back the hood. Real emotion shows in the other's green-blue eyes: anger, shame, hopelessness. It's the replica. Roxas couldn't forget those eyes even when he'd tried. But Axel had said it was gone... "You're not one of us."

"Neither are you." The voice is harsh, but Roxas knows why now. "We need to fix you, Sora. You have to come with me. I—"

A chill comes over Roxas at that name. Anger follows it quickly. Oathbreaker sings as it slices through the leather coat, cutting an X over his opponent's heart. "Don't call me that. My name is Roxas."

"Your name is _Sora_."

A dark portal starts to swim to existence a few feet away near the mouth of the alley. It's ragged and half-formed, only barely resembling the elegant constructs of the Organization members. Roxas doesn't even question whether it's an escape attempt or something else. He turns his next attack into a pivot, kicking the human boy away from the wall and towards the portal. The next blow lands at his knees, unbalancing his enemy long enough that another kick sends him stumbling through the portal with ease.

Before the portal closes, he takes time to shout after him, "My name is _ROXAS_."

A few moments later Axel steps through a new swirl of darkness, rubbing a quickly forming bruise on his forehead. "Hope you don't mind I followed the portal back to you. Did you mean to drop someone on me in Radiant Gardens, or was that an accident? Because I'm supposed to be killing you about now, you know."

Roxas looks up at his former partner and wonders if he's about to hand himself back over to Xemnas. "I need a favor."


	13. Chapter 13

Roxas has never been in Castle Oblivion. He never would have expected his search to end here. If he'd asked Axel what had really happened, maybe he wouldn't have spent so long looking elsewhere. Or maybe Axel would have kept his secrets. The other Nobody played both sides so well, even Roxas wasn't always sure what he really thought.

Yellows and blues and reds flash across displays as he strides down the hall, the bright primary colors of childhood being resorted and redrawn before Roxas' eyes. Only the deep shadows of his hood keep him from being blinded by the kaleidoscopic color. There are status bars everywhere, showing ten percent of this memory and ninety-seven percent of that. It all centers on one boy, floating like a drowning victim in his pod. His eyes are closed, face still with the peace only total unconsciousness can bring. It's a face Roxas almost recognizes; it's close enough to his own to be a twin. Months of searching and trading Axel to make portals have brought him to this white-on-white place. Blonde hair flops in his eyes as stares up at his goal with something he thinks might be awe.

He knows what color those eyes will be.

There's something unsettling, something indefinably wrong about treating a whole personality as a toy to be broken and fixed. Even if that personality has been wrecked already, he can't help thinking that it should stop. Roxas steps up to the control panel, gloved fingers gliding over the buttons and finally hovering over one. It's red, marked "release", as though anyone would mistake the presence of a red button against white everything. A single push, and he could fix everything—could _end_ everything.

"Who are you?" The question comes from behind him, frail and soft. Roxas keeps one hand on the console as he turns. The girl looks as delicate as she sounds, in a dress that matches the rest of the building. "Are you from the Organization?"

"Not exactly." He smiles even though she can't see it, and considers the button under his palm.


End file.
